


saltwater hour

by trioxhydre



Category: Splatoon
Genre: Background Relationships, Developing Relationship, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Slice of Life, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-05-12
Updated: 2018-10-17
Packaged: 2019-05-04 16:37:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,025
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14597184
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/trioxhydre/pseuds/trioxhydre
Summary: People you meet never really leave, and Rider learns that the hard way when someone from the past shows up one day and decides to stay a while.





	1. Chapter 1

_They meet in the heart of the city, where the structure signifying the peak of sportsmanship sits. Leftover electricity crackles in terrifying sync with the volt bending fish wrapped around the central tower. The air smells a little too warm at night. The cooled down atmosphere stands against riveting battles held in arenas branching out from the lobby._

_Rider slouches uncomfortably in a blanket of humidity and sweat, lolling around the Splat Roller gripped between hands. His eyes strain against the neon signs populating the sides of buildings like old suns of the night once day and the people with it go to sleep._

_Recent tallies made by higher ranking players decorate the scoreboard nearby, none of which bore his name and any name he recognized._

_A group of players maneuver around him while he reads, opening and closing in a way that mimics a school of fish. They talk to each other about their latest match in Clam Blitz. Knockouts._

_The word reminds him of the churn and spark of exhilaration that made him tremble still. The rewarding taste of ranking up and the stomach drop of a cracked bar when the next rank is just out of reach._

_But he is so close to ranking up. His feet race him without command towards the lobby’s doors. Rider’s peripheral vision didn't catch the moving edge of another, and they were both on the floor. The splat roller clatters out of his hands, luckily dry from ink. He rubs his head at the impact. Lightheaded, yellow eyes meet ice blue ones for a moment in between._

_“Ah oh, I’m so sorry.” The inkling abruptly stands, fixing their coat and picking up an N-ZAP along with the Splat Roller from the ground. “Lemme get that for you.”_

_They’re already offering it to Rider when he stands up. There’s a mild shake to their grip and a worried smile on their face, lopsided underneath the dark mask._

_“It was my fault,” Rider offers, hoping that would placate whatever anxious thoughts that were running through the other person’s mind. He steals another glance at the orange inkling, noting the decrease in tension between their eyes, and a more natural smile. His roller falls back to its original position by his side._

_They stand there, a minute or two but it feels even longer with each passing second. Lacking anything else to say, and with the uncomfortable drag of waiting, he blurts out “Do you want to squad?”_

_The other inkling’s eyes widen and they nod quickly, where if Rider looked away he would’ve missed it. They exchange names and Rider jogs towards the sliding doors, motioning with a quick wave to Army to hurry up. The excitement feeds back into his system, coursing and looping through each movement he made and each glance Army gave to him._

_-_

_Army swings his feet back and forth on the rafter, taking a sip from the drink Rider paid for. His demeanor seems relaxed, content with the evening’s bout of fling and shoot. There’s smear of green ink on his cheek he was too lazy to wipe away. Proof of their practice from before._

_Rider takes a sip from his own drink, and adjusts the towel wrapped around his neck. Army has one too but it’s on the floor next to where they discarded their weapons for their break. It’s nice of Sheldon to let out the practice area on such short notice. However, the smell of sweat lingers annoyingly in the enclosed room._

_“I don’t think I ever apologize for running into you,” Rider muses. He swirls the soda can around. His arm is propped up against the railing near the stairs, falling occasionally when he moves his focus elsewhere, mainly up._

_“No, but you—” Army laughs to himself, steading his balance back on the beam before he completely slips off. “You don’t need to. It’s not your fault.”_

_Rider eyes Army from the corner of his vision and shrugs, rim of the soda between his teeth. “Still my fault.” He apologizes. They laugh together this time and he feels alleviated._

_-_

_Perpetually bright sun pours down rays of heat, practically turning the sidewalk into a live stovetop. Even the birds refuse to touch the ground to scavenge for scraps. He lets out a breath of hot air as they make their way down the path to nowhere in particular. Small, translucent lines rising from the heated ground distort the view._

_Rider thinks about how his body might melt at any given moment while his hand runs across the sides of the buildings he passes. Fingers jump between gaps and slide against glass. A familiar glint from a shop a little ways down catches his eyes. Army stops before him, already knowing Rider would want to look at the roller display._

_The weapon is large. The weapon is formidable. Ever since he laid his eyes on it during a battle, his heart aches to one day possess it, to hold it in his hands as his own, to bring down on foes in one loaded motion._

_They agree to go inside and Army tosses the popsicle stick he was biting into a trash can nearby. Rider goes ahead and pushes the front door, before realizing it’s a pull even after so many times of coming in and out of the place._

_A short jingle greets them two times and catches the attention of the shopkeeper. “Hello, hello! What kind of weapon are you in the market for?” He greets._

_“We’re here to browse,” Army readily answers. Rider escapes at the distraction and slides towards the display case that holds his attention while the shopkeeper insists he introduces the new model of this and that to Army._

_He catches some dialogue— ‘every other charger, you'll want to be extra aware of’— and he could feel Army’s impatience rolling through his curt ‘yes’s and ‘of course’s._

_The Gold Dynamo Roller, labeled with a placard and held by clear stands, sits on the pedestal. Unchanging since his last visit to the shop and still just as amazing as the first time he looked at it. He flexes his fingers in blatant anticipation, wondering if there’s any time left to touch it before Sheldon switches his focus._

_Rider shoots a quick look past his shoulder and the horseshoe crab seems distracted enough._

_They eventually get kicked out of the shop and retreat back to Rider’s workplace, a local convenience store, to lick their wounds. Army buys his third soda while Rider works apart a roll of coins for the register. A few quarters slip onto the floor and Rider ducks down to pick them back up, knocking the drawer close once everything was placed back in._

_-_

_A song from the back speakers echoes across the empty aisles. Some of the lyrics are distorted beyond recognition. He can hear scraps of the melody he if tries hard enough. But he doesn’t, and instead looks at storefront._

_The evening sun passes through in multi colored shades, staining the generic white floor tiles with hues he didn’t really want to describe either. Time feels slowed down almost, nostalgic like although nothing in the establishment reminds him of anything that happened in the past he wanted to reminisce on._

_Rider drums his fingers absentmindedly on the ceramic countertop, the music stops and switches to an advertisement, nobody’s here, it's close to closing time, and yet his boss insists he stays until the final hour._

_The boss’ statement holds no weight on him however as he cautiously hovers his hand over the home button on his phone. A couple of text message notifications pop up and he swipes past those in favor for contacts icon._

_“Hello?”_

_“W— not so loud.” He glances behind the counter to check with his palm covering the speaker. His boss remains absent so he returns to the call._

_A snort travels through the phone, quieter than the greeting from before much to his relief. He still cups the speaker close to his ear just in case any sound slips past._

_“What’re you doing?” Army types away on a laptop in the background, fast enough to imply that both hands were occupied. Keystrokes barely make it through the phone as little blips here and there. “Can you play tonight? ’m closing in on A+ and I need the extra practice.”_

_Rider frowns as he recalls, or tries to at least, the last time he was out and playing a match with or without Army. Hearing Army ranking up again in such a short period of time knocks another notch into his mind, a little bit of self-doubt. He thinks hard through the feeling, and scrapes together what he imagines what his recent match as an A- was like._

_“Hello? Earth to Rider.”_

_He looks back to his phone. “Sorry. Thought of something.”_

_“That’s ok.” There’s a brief pause in typing. “So... Tonight?”_

_“I can’t play tonight. I get out of work late for some reason,” Rider replies after some time considering. “I gotta wake up early tomorrow.”_

_“Well that’s too bad.”_

_“Maybe next week?” He adds, quickly, trying to keep Army’s attention. “I can do that.”_

_Army hums something, too low for Rider to comprehend, but he takes it as a hum of approval._

_-_

_Summer passes quietly and autumn moves in with the beginnings of sophomore year. Rider still holds onto his job as much as he can, opting to take it part time so he could stay on top of his classes. Turf and Ranked starts to slow down more and more as work continues to pile onto his plate. Queue waits for longer periods of time and battling just isn’t the same with conflicting schedules so Rider opts to hold off playing alone. They promised to keep in touch but it looks like that’s not holding up well._

_His sister hastily pops open the bedroom window one day when he’s studying. She throws herself onto his bed once the air quality was to her liking and he is thankful for it even though he doesn’t openly voice it. A quick breeze clears the room of stress._

_“Rider! Can you help me with my homework,” she shouts, louder than she needs to be in a room with only two people._

_“Why the hell are you yelling?” He also shouts in return, toppling out of the chair he was just leaning back in. “Can’t you see I’m doing my homework.”_

_“Uh, yeah. And I still need help with mine,” she chides back, peering down at him on the floor._

_Rider gruffly pulls himself up and meets his sister’s stare with a frown._

_“Ever since you started school you spend less and less and less time with me.” She points a thumb at herself on the last word. He opens his mouth to speak but she cuts him off. “You don’t even hang out with Army anymore and he’s like, your best friend.”_

_“He’s not my best f— he’s just a really good friend.”_

_She shoots him a look. A glare. “You suck at lying.”_

_“God damnit.” He cuts the conversation short, defeated. “Fine. He’s my best friend.”_

_His sister says something else about them but he’s too busy slinking back into his chair, and back to his textbooks. Rider says if she keeps talking he won’t help her with her homework, so she doesn’t anymore. They spend the rest of the night sitting in each other's company until he kicks her out because of her curfew._

_-_

_He gets a call in spring, after months of minimal communication, from Army at work. Fortunately he is on his break and Army’s in between matches. They catch up, dropping what they’ve been doing here and there during their time apart._

_He learns that Army recently broke into S+ while he’s still in the A- bracket. Rider learns that Army met a group of S+ players who think he’s full of potential that they can hone together. Rider also learns indirectly that he’s being slowly replaced even though it’s kinda his fault for choosing his life the way he did and really, what else did he expect to happen. Now he’s jealous and tension writhes inside him so he ends the call early on the excuse that his break was ending when it wasn’t, and fumes outside in the dark for a good half an hour._

_Some light breaks his brooding as his boss kicks the rusty backdoor open. “Hey! Hour’s done,” she yells, angrily because his time went over._

_Rider inhales deeply in an attempt to restrain himself from strangling his boss as he closes the door behind them._

_-_

_They don’t call each other anymore. The last time Rider thinks about him was when the debut for the S4 was announced on the local channel during a broadcast of a tournament. His sister wanted him to watch television with her ‘for once in his dumb life’. A big mistake on his part when the silhouettes of the team fade. The reveal of the new group opens up a huge hole in his stomach._

_Sitting there through the screen, with the same old N-ZAP held to his chest, is Army._

_He looks older, more mature wearing a military styled outfit. Ice blue eyes still wide and piercing like the first time they met. Only now two bars of ink line the bottom of his mask in an intimidating fashion. The anxiety he saw when they were young is gone, replaced by raw confidence._

_Unbridled cheering rocks through the speakers and Rider’s hands open and close, shaking too. The other three S4 members look at each other with steely determination._

_His chest clenches and breathing becomes harder. He feels like throwing up, yet he can’t stop himself from staring at the TV set._

_By the time his sister returns with leftovers in hand, he’s still not sure if he’s mad at Army, the S4, or himself. She asks him what’s wrong and he can’t bring himself to even explain why other than he just is. She turns off the TV for him._

_-_

Two years. It’s been two years. Two years barely thinking about him and now he shows up again with his newly formed team like nothing’s changed.

Rider finishes telling off the leader of the blue team, Goggles, for losing the match right after his. He’s especially annoyed since Goggles’ ragtag group of a team defeated him, a seasoned player, earlier. To think a bunch of C-’s and a B- could beat four S+’s was ridiculous, yet it happened. He thinks he’s still recovering from the whiplash.

Blue team wanders off without giving him a chance to include a final remark save for the kid with glasses. He looks pretty intent on taking what he said to heart, and that is enough for Rider to get by today.

The glasses kid hurriedly thanks him for his insights and sprints off to join the rest of his group, mainly just Goggles, in aggravating someone that isn’t him thankfully. Rider closes his eyes for a bit to calm down into a better state of mind until a very, very familiar voice from his childhood breaks his concentration.

He pales. His eyes dart around in search for the source of his panic and sees a ghost from the past. Even without eyes meeting, just a glance comes bubbling up old feelings he wants to forget about, light and feathery across his complexion, tunneling back into his lungs. Suffocating. Dry.

They look up and stare in surprise. They smile and that only makes his stomach twist wires. A second switch flips and Rider wants to run, run far away. However he can't. The same cold stare locks his feet in place. Heads turn to look at him and god he really wants to die.

“Rider! Long time no see!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First published fic? First published fic! I hope this was worth the read. Big thanks to my IRL friend and pal for beta reading... if yer out there and you see this... thaenk you.
> 
> Also to keep everything up to speed, here's the changes from the canon + some of my own HC's mixed in. Future stuff will be in notes too.
> 
> \- The more "mature" groups/characters like Rider and the S4 are young adults while the more new kids like the blue team are in their mid-teens. And because of that, the older kids are well, more mature. Though that doesn't mean they're perfect at dealing with feelings as demonstrated by Rider and just life examples too.  
> \- Along with that, Rider and Army meet when they're both around fifteen and in current time they're around eighteen.  
> \- Rider has a sister whom he loves very much but also despises because thats what sibling relationships are like. She's younger than him by two years. I don't have a name for her yet whoops.  
> \- Before we got those animated episodes for the manga, I felt Rider having yellow eyes and Army having the whitish blue ones were pretty nice. I don't want to change that either so like yeah it's staying. Also theres apperance changes but its extremely small details that are not important or extremely noticeable. Maybe I'll draw em sometime who knows.


	2. Chapter 2

Various scenarios play through his head, some ending when they start, and others branching into their own timelines of sorts. As much as he practiced with the reflection in the mirror on the off chance he needed to have something prepared, none of that served its purpose. He takes a step back and clears the lump in his throat with a cough. Talking when uncomfortable comes naturally, though calm dispositions put him on edge and all eyes move their attention to him.

He narrows his eyes, adopting a defensive posture with his arms folded tightly. Army picks up on the body language and his face falls into a less enthusiastic version of what he had on.

“Rider!” He says again, straightening his stance and fixing his tie. Rider rolls his eyes at the actions and takes it as something to distract his own thoughts with. He would know, even if the whole play by play was an illusion to appear more confident than he already is. “I would have never imagined that we would meet each other again here of all places, but if that is what fate intends, so be it!”

A laugh almost escapes. “Since when did you start talking like a cartoon protagonist?” he wants to ask, consciousness tugging his mouth closed before he could break the strangeness between them. Even if he wanted to say something, jokes are reserved between him and his friends and Army isn’t a friend anymore, more or less of an estranged acquaintance now. Yet, he can’t remember the last time he did crack a joke.

“I suppose so,” Rider says instead, breaking eye contact to scowl at the boy grabbing onto his arm. Goggles glances back and forth between him and the other inkling, and then stares directly up at him. “What?”

The boy squeezes his arm much to his annoyance. “You two know each other?” he asks.

Rider furrows his brow, unwilling to disclose any information about his past as that stays between him and the people there who experienced it with him. Though of course, there is a nagging urge to answer, and he holds it off with curious intent to hear what Army would say in his place.

Army picks up the gap in the conversation and replies curtly and to the point. “Yes.”

His expression falls. Part of him tries to reason with the other half to not be disappointed, and to not show it as much as he wanted to hear more about himself from the other. With the current situation, this sort of response is expected. Still, it’s nice to be acknowledge with more than one impersonal word. At the same time, he’s relieved.

Somehow, to his surprise, Army notices his displeasure and softens his look, just enough for him to notice and nobody else. It catches him off guard and his face is hot from how frustrating it is to have old reactions dug back up. He tries to put in another word until the grating static of a microphone breaks their silence. The perpetrator clears the mic a few more times, producing harsh noise accompanying her irritated voice. “Alright. If you two don’t mind wrapping up, we have a match to start.”

“Right.” Army peers back at his team and asks Marie, “Who are our next opponents?”

The idol deadpans, shoulders hunched in exasperation, and waves her microphone in a circular fashion. She points at the other inkling standing nearby as he continued to talk with Headphones until the presence of everyone’s attention bears too much to ignore. Rider exhales and shakes his arm out of Goggles’ grip.

“W— wait us?” Glasses blurts out, louder than anticipated. Army raises a brow in response.

“You’re the leader of the team that beat Rider?” he asks, in more of a statement as a matter of fact rather than an actual question. Pausing for a second to muse in his own thoughts, he continues. “I’m saddened to be the bearer of bad news, but this is as far as your team will go.”

For a moment, Rider lets himself frown. Ready to defend his loss and perhaps even reprimand Army for overestimating his opponents, he clenches his fists. As usual, Army hasn’t grown out of his attitude from when they were kids, and the added fame and confidence only boosted his ego further to heights unknown. It’s not like he and his team wanted to lose to novices in the first place.

“Well, we’ll see about that!” Glasses remarks in place of him, hand splayed against his chest in added effect. “We may be inexperienced. And yeah, I’m not sure how we won against Rider, but we’re going to try our best regardless of what you think.”

Army stares, and then smirks, from mild amusement or agitation, he couldn’t tell. The orange inkling takes his leave and his gut tells him to run after and catch up on what happened during the last few years, or at least get something he couldn’t read online. In the meantime, the rest of blue team piles onto Glasses in overly excited chatter with the poor inkling barely keeping up. Headphones gives a quick punch to his shoulder, grinning feverishly. “I can’t believe you told him off.”

They continue to laugh, ricocheting excitement off each other until it became too much for him to ignore. He didn’t bother to chase after Army at the chance, knowing his choice to tail behind would show as a sign of weakness. By all means, he needs to preserve the scraps of dignity he had left in front of a crowd. He cannot afford to act irrationally on the push of his emotions. Without anything more on his mind, he grabs a hold of blue team’s attention and ushers them out of the plaza.

-

On his way to the viewing area for Flounder Heights, he intermittently pulls out his phone to check for a message back from Stealth, and hopefully more so from Bamboo. Yet each time he looked, nothing shows on his lock screen save for a set reminder to make a stop at the grocery store. He grits his teeth in annoyance and hovers his finger over the dial button for the former individual. However, his mind nags at him and he puts away the device.

By the time he makes his way to an open spot near the railing, the match had started. From the commentary passed between spectators he learns he only missed a short amount of action. And from his own assessment, blue team kicked off with a strong push given the amount of their ink left in areas splattered with orange. Fierce competition, he thinks to himself when Army and his group descend from the rooftops. They leave no breaks between each hit, taking out one after another with precision even he couldn’t match.

Blue team returns to spawn, ready to fan out once more but orange team steps into their remaining space, their exits. Essentially, they’ve all been cornered, and knowing Army, he and his team weren’t going to let up pressure soon. Rider props his head on his hand, pensive.

He spies a potential opening, though he decides it would be useless for blue team to consider since it requires a maneuver only a few top players could perform. Even if they could, judging from the glow around his head, Army’s special was ready for use. He tugs on his jacket collar and watches blue team make a break for the ground ramp.

To no surprise, the opponent unleashes a frenzy of arrows. The translucent arrows swarm after each member, leaving another holographic string back to their user. He sees Army’s mouth move, but he fails to pick out what he said over the bustle of noise the crowd around him made. Rider is still thinking about escape routes when the remainder of their team is splatted. In fairness, ever since he lost, he’s been keen on picking up every detail he could and trying to make sure mistakes other teams make won’t be replicated by his.

Shouting catches his attention back to the actual matter at hand, with the absence of Goggles drilling into his awareness. His hands grip the railing, head darting back and forth in search of where the boy went. He makes note to reprimand himself for straying off in thought about the match in favor for well, ironically, the match. Rising possibility of overthinking peaks again until a spectator next to him points at the window of one of the apartments. Leaning forward and squinting, Rider sees the boy eating what he assumes is curry with a family of jellyfish.

Holding back the urge to join in with the shouting, he cuts himself off by rubbing his eyes with his palms. There is literally nothing at this point he can predict anymore. He wonders if this falls within the rules of turf, but it had to be if the idols haven’t called off the match yet. If this threw him off, it must’ve thrown off Army too. And he’s right about that. Terribly right.

-

Too slow to beat the rush, he carefully steps down from the viewing platform and weaves his way through the crowd towards the reception set up by the staff, focus swimming above the noise. Mindlessly, he walks past a few groupings people who try to grab his attention. Satisfaction from the match’s conclusion keeps him alert enough to notice two members of orange team within earshot.

“We really lost to that idiot team, huh?” the one in navy complains to the other. They pull an exasperated face of annoyance until his attempt at eavesdropping fails. The inkling straightens up and smiles sheepishly at him. If they wanted to look sorry, it should be to the team they bad mouthed, not him. Even then, he doubts they’ll ever talk to blue team after that humiliating loss if their pride allowed it. Rider sighs.

Another voice nearby asks, “Should we record this in our manuals?” He stiffens and steals a glance at the inkling in grey talking to, of course, Army himself. Rider hastily turns away, acting as if he didn’t notice the exchange behind him even though he knows they saw him. And much to his dismay, the chatter stops and waits. Not wanting to drag this out longer than he wanted, he pivots to face the two and the inkling in grey’s ears perk up. He glares at her nonverbal response which she ignores, smirking at the other inkling diverts his attention. She excuses herself from the conversation, leaving the two alone.

Embarrassment flares up and he questions Army about what just transpired, though he just waves it off with a chuckle and tells him it’s nothing important. He doesn’t believe him and his curiosity pokes him again to press for more, but the topic changes. With just the two of them now, he starts again, only for both of their sentences to cut into each other, rendering their thoughts in a jumble of awkward phrases and gaps that trail off into nothing. They stop at the same time. Army clears his throat, motioning for Rider to go first.

He takes his chance and comments, “Are you really still journaling in that manual of yours?” He mentally winces at how harsh that sounded, watching Army’s expression adopt one of light surprise. “I thought that habit would’ve died a while back.” He pauses. “You need to be more flexible, and stop underestimating people.”

Army tilts his head to the side, arms crossed, puzzled. He waits for a response and watches the other inkling shake his head, laughing quietly. “I know I know,” he quickly repeats. “I told you before, I enjoy recording.” He sticks his hands back into his coat pockets, looking at Rider with some sort of fondness. “It is very hard for me to expect a new team to match my expertise when I’ve only played with the best.”

“Ah,” he blanks, slightly flushed. He averts his eyes and stares off at anything that just wasn’t the inkling next to him.

A crowd forms around the giant iron pots the jellyfish family brought out. They start handing out plates. The curry drenches the atmosphere with its sickeningly sweet scent, masking the entire area. When he was still up on the platform, the smell was bearable. Now, it’s nauseating to the point where he wants to throw up and leave. But despite the urge, he doesn’t make a move to escape, and stays while the clattering of dishware fills the air. Army holds off from starting another conversation, and he is thankful for it.

But time is unforgiving and another string of words comes to mind. He stares at the ground and puts his hands behind his back, and through clenched teeth, he mutters the other inkling’s name. The orange inkling picks up the noise and immediately responds with a ‘yes?’. Rider pieces more words together.

He starts off with an ‘I—’ until loud stomping bounds over with Goggles and two plates of curry.

As luck would have it, the boy tripped and sent the dishes flying overhead, dumping the contents on the plate on him in the process. Most of the liquid slides off. Only some grains of rice stick to his jacket, but the smell is so overwhelming. He’s not sure if the heat that burns his skin comes from the food or his building rage.

People mutter as Goggles profusely apologizes and as Army pulls out a handkerchief once he got over his initial shock. He pushes both offers of help away to shorten the disaster, telling them he’s fine and he’ll deal with it himself since his jacket care materials are at home. He takes this as a sign for him to go and he stalks off in the direction where the main sidewalks start. In the moment he starts to walk, he barely catches Army pacing behind him and asking ‘what did you want to say?’, but pretends to miss it. He stops hearing footsteps afterwards.

In the end it works out. What he wanted to say was stupid, and bold of him to even bring up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy five months, huh? College started and funnily enough I have more time to write than I did previously. Anyway, this thing is still alive and kicking and I am not ready to let this be a one chapter never completed fic! Shout out to my friends who keep me interested enough to actually continue writing and also distracting me from doing my homework.
> 
> Not a lot of notes this time. Just one.
> 
> \- Rider has a lot of leather jacket care because he treats that thing like his son. And apparently it is very expensive to take care of a leather jacket. So many things to do that I should be doing too since I own one as well.


End file.
